Falling From Grace
by liquid-thought
Summary: When Zachariah turned up dead, Castiel knew it was only a matter of time before they assigned him to exact revenge.


Castiel secured the bandanna behind Dean's head, the knot pulling the hairs at the base of his skull. The rage he felt wasn't truly directed at this man. It wasn't his fault he was one of the most wanted hitmen in their little section of broken-down America. No, that was to his credit. It was also to his credit that his family ordered a hit on him after he killed Zachariah. Castiel? He was glad the bastard was dead.

But now this meant he had to tie down Dean Winchester and snuff out the most brilliant spark of life he'd ever seen. He circled around Dean, green eyes flashing dangerously at him. Castiel still had no doubts that this man was the most dangerous he'd ever encountered, even when restrained with zip ties, duct tape and rope. Excessive? No, he refused to underestimate Dean Winchester.

He could see a slight change in Dean's eyes, the lids widening almost imperceptibly. "I took the liberty of stripping away all of your tools while you were drugged earlier. A necessary precaution, I'm sure you understand."

Dean breathed heavily, seeming to understand that there was truly no way he'd make it out of this alive. Some men would have raged, screamed behind the cloth and tried to kick from the binds of the tape and plastic. Dean? No, never Dean. Dean looked him in the eyes and dared him to continue. It pained him that he would have to turn those eyes dull, that they would sit beneath six feet of dirt. Or more likely be turned to ash as was Winchester tradition.

He could still remember the first time he laid eyes on Dean Winchester. They were in a hotel lobby, Castiel looking for a target that apparently both he and Dean had been contracted to kill. The skill of the other man startled him. Few others in their profession ever managed to surprise him, yet somehow Dean had shown up in his room that night and he'd never suspected a thing. Such fire and passion, brute strength and the ability to do anything he set himself toward. He was devastatingly intelligent and dangerously skilled at improvisation. To kill Dean would be to remove the only person who could ever hope to best him from the planet. Castiel would have no competition, no company at the top of their very bloody occupational ladder.

No, this could not happen.

Castiel sighed heavily and drew his gun, pointing just to the side of Dean's head. He lifted his other hand and placed a finger over his lips. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Winchester." He pulled the trigger, putting a whole in the wall of the abandoned house they were set up in.

His finger stayed over his lips as Dean stared at him in confusion, making sure to keep as still as possible to minimize the noise he made. Castiel exhaled slowly and reached inside the breast pocket of his over shirt, turning off the audio transmitter his brother had provided. Always wired, as though they didn't feel they could trust him. Though Castiel really couldn't blame them, they knew what Dean was to him. Who Dean had been to him for a very long time. So it wasn't surprising at all that Raphael demanded he wear a wire so he could be monitored.

Turning off the rest of his electronics was a simple task, taking no more than two minutes at most. Dean stared on silently, his breathing a calm constant in the room. He was glad they gave him the assignment out of spite rather than to someone who would have followed through. Then again, they must have known he'd be the only one capable of actually getting the job done. Lucky for Dean then that Castiel was literally incapable of killing him, even when he thought for just a moment he could try. Such a foolish thought that was.

The air in the house was chilly, the only heat being provided by several small candles burning on a side table. It made Dean's skin a bright shock of warmth against him as he sat in the larger man's lap, arms resting on his shoulders as he stared. Dean stared right back, examining him much the same way he himself was being examined. Castiel's fingers toyed with the knot at the back of the cloth gag. "Will you try to bite me if I free you?" Dean raised one skeptical eyebrow, amusement playing out in his eyes. Castiel chuckled softly. "Of course, only if I ask, correct?"

Dean nodded sharply, a jerky acknowledgment of things they were both supposed to forget. _You can't trust him, Castiel, he will turn on you._

The knot was easily enough undone, some of Dean's light brown hair clumped into the fabric as it was pulled free. Dean moved his tongue around his mouth, attempting to get some saliva flowing. Castiel pushed closer, their noses nearly touching. Dean stopped, his mouth slightly parted. He smirked. "Did they really think you could kill me?"

His voice was rough and deep, the skin of his cheeks reddened from being constricted and all Castiel wanted to do was lick the lines of irritation. "I suppose they imagined my loyalty to family would overpower my loyalties to you." _My rather unhealthy infatuation and obsession with you._

Dean hummed lowly, his chest vibrating against Castiel's through multiple layers of fabric. His smirk widened to a smile, teeth glinting dementedly in the candle light. "For what it's worth, I'm glad they were wrong."

Castiel kissed him in response, moaning as Dean dragged his tongue out of his mouth with his teeth so it could be sucked. Cas' hands moved from their place behind Dean's neck, dropping the bandanna on their way to his own pockets. He quickly fished out a small knife and slid it into Dean's hands. The other man growled in approval before setting to work on his binds. The tape ripping and zip ties snapping in the quiet of the room filled Castiel with a sense of misplaced urgency.

Adrenaline rushed through his system. He was disobeying a direct order from his family. He was rebelling in the biggest way possible. A target was being allowed to _live_. Not just any target, either. _Dean Winchester_. Castiel had been the one to find Zachariah's body in the abandoned refinery, blood pooled under his head as it leaked from the top of his cracked skull and the bottom of his sagging double chin. The exhilaration then had been astounding. Dean had done it, what he always said he'd do.

And now Castiel was following the emotions created by that one moment in time. Not only was he not killing Dean, he was kissing him as he handed him a weapon and allowed him to free himself. Handing his enemy a weapon, even if they both knew they weren't truly enemies. The rush he felt made him want to laugh in his excitement. He felt alive. For the first time in twenty-eight years, Castiel Novak felt truly alive.

Dean's arms wrapped around his midsection, crushing their bodies together almost painfully. Their groins met, Castiel rolling his hips down as he moaned softly. Dean was hard against him and the pressure of his body caused pleasure to spark in a cascade up Castiel's spine, fanning out across his skin in a wave that left his skin with goose bumps. Thick fingers yanked his head back by his hair, Dean's teeth nipping at his jaw as he remapped the limited flesh he was allotted. "What d'you want, Cas?"

Castiel shivered at the nickname. A small syllable he hadn't heard in nearly two years. If asked why he betrayed his family he imagined that simple, tiny sound could be added to the rather long list that was his entire life. What did he want? It wasn't the first time Dean had asked. No, the first time Dean had been above him, entirely naked after finding him in his hotel room. His family had ordered recon, Dean took the assignment very seriously and spent three days and two bottles of lubricant making sure it was done correctly.

So, what did he want? Did he want another few days like they first shared? Or maybe he wanted to switch organizations? Surely the Winchesters would take him in on Dean's recommendation. The latter was very tempting, but what he truly wanted was far more heinous. His family had spent years trying to hurt him after his first perceived betrayal. Gabriel had been driven into hiding, as had Anna. Balthazar was nearly ready to fake his own death and the final straw was ordering him to kill Dean. So what did he want? He wanted Dean to continue along the path of bodies started by Zachariah's corpse.

Castiel turned his head as much as he could with Dean's firm grip. The green in the other man's eyes was dark, the gold flecks seeming to glow like embers just on the brink of ignition. His tongue flicked across Dean's lips, a gentle tease that both promised and begged for more. "I want to help you in any way I can, Dean."

Dean's eyes trained on him, watching him carefully. When he spoke next his voice was steady, testing just how far Castiel could be bent. "What if I wanted your thumb drive, the one with all the information on your family? The passcodes and locations of their safe-houses?"

Castiel felt his cock swell further at the thought of Dean demanding such a thing. If he gave over the information, Dean would hand it right over to Sam and one of the only men his family would never try to fuck with was Sam Winchester. Once, just for the sheer principle of the matter, Sam destroyed one of their server databanks. He let loose a virus into their network that Anna had barely managed to contain. Giving Dean that information would ruin his family, lead to the loss of countless lives. It was the perfect place to start.

He smiled softly. "It's in my bag, under the table over there, fourth pocket. The password is 264190-Jeudi-040109."

Dean ran his teeth over his bottom lip, his tongue following shortly after. They spent a few silent moments looking at each other, judging the sincerity of their situation. Finally, Dean broke the silence with his usual cocky tone. "Well, I ain't gonna be able to get it if you don't let me out, Cas."

Dean shoved the knife into his hand, letting his head free. Castiel pocketed the knife and ground himself down into Dean's lap again, the firm line of Dean's arousal meeting his eagerly. This was what they did, they toyed with each other. An endless game of cat and mouse where it was never truly clear which one of them was in which role. Though, cat and mouse really wasn't such an accurate analogy. It was more akin to two tigers finding each other in a forest, circling and pouncing but never quite truly fighting.

His teeth pulled Dean's earlobe, the tender flesh a sensitive spot that Castiel loved to exploit. "Tell me, Dean, how horrified do you think my family will be when they learn I've sided with you?"

Dean groaned and pushed his hips up with the very limited leverage he was provided. His hands were on Castiel's hips, postponing Castiel freeing his legs in favor of a bit of mutual pleasure. "Depends, how deep on my side d'you wanna be, Cas?"

Castiel leaned forward, another kiss stolen before he pulled away and knelt at Dean's feet. The tape sliced quickly, sticky glue residue left on the denim of Dean's jeans. The rope fell next, lying limply on the rotted wooden floor. They stood at the same time, Castiel folding his knife before handing it over to Dean. "We can't stay long, my brothers will be here soon to make sure I've followed through. If they find us they'll kill us both."

Dean's eyes raked over his body, a small smile turning his lips. "Then we should probably torch this place and split. Too bad we don't have a decoy for me to slow 'em down a bit."

Castiel smirked. "I'm surprised, Dean, I thought you knew me better." The taller man quirked one brow, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I checked your trunk, your last hit is still there. He's about your height, isn't he?"

Dean's shoulders shook as he laughed. He stepped in close to Castiel and smiled at him softly, old affection softening his eyes. "You knew the moment you got in town that you weren't gonna kill me, didn't you?"

"Yes." Castiel returned Dean's soft smile before moving away to start packing.

The house burnt brilliantly, the mark they were using as a stand in for Dean would likely distract his family from paying too much attention until it was too late. Their first stop was to visit Sam. Dean's younger brother was one of few people who knew about their tryst, so when they showed up together he barely batted an eye. He did, however, hesitate when Castiel handed him the rather unassuming chunk of plastic that contained years of priceless data on the Novak family and their associates.

"Why're you helping us like this, Cas? Not that I'm not excited to finally get ahold of this, but why the change of heart?" Sam was skeptical, as any smart man should have been.

"They told me to kill Dean." It seemed to be reason enough for Sam, who raised one brow thoughtfully and took the thumb drive without further question.

Dean led him up a small set of stairs in the cabin they were using. They turned right and entered a small bedroom where Dean had earlier deposited his bags. Castiel's car had been ditched one state back along with his cell phone and any other means of tracking him. Should his family try, they'd likely end up needing a tour down the Mississippi before they ever found any trace of his equipment.

The bedroom was comfortable, a bed tucked against one wall, a small window above the bedside table, a dresser on far left side and a small closet finished it off. It wasn't made to be lived in on a regular basis, but it did provide a nice atmosphere for the short duration they would be staying. Sam knew him and so was easily convinced, but Bobby Singer would prove more difficult to sway. Getting some rest in before the hoops he'd need to jump through would do him some good.

Dean's arms circled his waist, pulling him flush to the warm body behind him. Soft lips teased his neck and ear, hot breath fanning out across his skin. One hand slid down to the front of his pants, his belt quickly undone. Castiel relaxed in the wall of muscle and bone, his head falling to one side as Dean's mouth lavished him. He could hear the click of the door as Dean kicked it closed before leading them to the bed at the edge of the room. The fly of his pants was the next victim of Dean's dexterous fingers, the heavy denim sagging on his slim hips.

He turned in Dean's arms and pulled their mouths together, his own hands wandering down Dean's chest and stomach to find the hem of his shirt. Castiel pulled it up and over Dean's head, briefly trapping his arms with it before discarding it. They smiled to each other before sharing another kiss, tongues teasing and chasing each other. Dean gave his shirt the same treatment, strong fingers pressing into his skin with unforgiving force once it was bared. He would bruise, just like old times, only now there would be no one around to question what happened. The only one he cared about knowing was the one inflicting them.

Dean's belt and fly were pried apart, their proximity making it a chore but doable nonetheless. Castiel had always prided himself on his skill with tricky locks. Their kisses were familiar, lips sucked and bitten in a steady give and take. With them there was no clear dominant and submissive partner. They took as they pleased and relished that they trusted each other enough to do so. Dean was by far the more physically forceful of the two, but Castiel could be much more manipulative given proper incentive. Seeing Dean lose control, having the larger man slam him onto the nearest flat surface? That would always be incentive enough.

Half a dozen kisses later they were both toeing their shoes off and stepping out of their pants. Dean gave him a rough shove that made the mattress creak in complaint as he landed on it. Then his hips were straddled by thick thighs and Castiel couldn't help but love the crushing weight of the other assassin's body on his. They moved together with practiced ease, cocks pushing against their stomachs impatiently. Castiel broke yet another kiss to speak in the quiet of the room. "Let me ride you."

Dean's grin was pleased bordering on leering as he hummed in accordance and rolled onto his back beside Castiel. First, though, there was the small matter of a two year separation in which Castiel's only glimpses of Dean were from video monitoring. He was sure a few times Dean let himself be captured on video and in photo on purpose, like he knew Castiel was watching him.

Keeping in mind twenty-four months of frustration and obsession, Castiel's climbed atop Dean and got to work kissing all across his neck and shoulders. New freckles taunted him, reminding him of the time they'd had to appear when Castiel was unable to map them. He bit at them, turning tan skin a sinful shade of pink as he slowly ventured further down. At Dean's stomach he let his tongue slip out, slick slide turning to a stuttering path as he left a dissipating trail of saliva down his lover's midsection. He pulled his tongue back in, rewetting it just in time to delve briefly into Dean's belly button. The other man laughed, looking down at him in a comforting mix of warm affection and lust.

Castiel sucked a belt of hickeys across Dean's lower abdomen, purple splotches that promised to be sensitive for days standing out brilliantly. He could imagine what they would look like the next day, once they'd had time to darken. It made him shiver in anticipation and refocus his efforts. The underside of Dean's cock was smooth and warm against his lips, twitching in an unconscious demand for more that always made him smile. He gripped it firmly in one hand and looked up at Dean, whose eyes were barely open as he tried to continue watching the show being provided for him.

His smile widened just before his tongue fell from his mouth to lazily roll in a circle around the head of the other man's cock. The flavor of precome washed over his taste buds, slightly bitter and entirely Dean. Above him the other man gave up any pretense of watching, his head falling against the pillows as he gave himself over to Castiel's ministrations. For a moment he thought about blowing Dean and then fucking him instead of riding him, but he'd waited too long to change the plan now. Instead, he pulled his mouth away, his free hand coming up to rub around the head in a never ending motion that had Dean gasping and opening his legs wider.

Castiel smirked and ventured lower, kissing the base of Dean's shaft as well as his balls. There was little he and Dean hadn't done short of pulling out their work kits and the areas of Dean's body others might consider unsavory were just another place he could lavish with attention. He gently lapped at the seam up the center, letting his tongue massage the pliant, sensitive skin. Dean was groaning and subtly moving his hips with the motion of Castiel's practiced fingers. He continued to work with his hands and mouth, rutting gently against the mattress as Dean moaned above him. The muscles in Dean's thighs were twitching and shaking and almost as soon as Castiel could feel it he was being yanked back up Dean's body by a rough hand under his arm. Castiel brought their mouths together as he lay on top of Dean, straddling his waist.

Dean smacked his ass hard, causing him to jerk and yelp into the kiss. Castiel laughed and hummed, grinding down into Dean as his accomplice wrapped large, possessive arms around his midsection.

"Little fuckin' tease." Dean smiled and murmured against his mouth, one arm breaking away to reach into the bedside table.

Castiel licked into his mouth, tongue curling and catching against Dean's teeth before it was captured and suckled. His arms caged Dean's head in against the pillow, his fingers idly playing with the man's short, brown hair. He broke the kiss to suck and lick across the lightly stubbled jaw in front of him, nipping teasingly at Dean's earlobe as he heard the lube being opened. It wasn't more than a few seconds before Dean pushed him up to his knees to give himself room to work. A slick finger brushed at his rim and Castiel did everything he could to relax so they could hurry up and get started.

Dean had the infuriating habit of taking preparation torturously slow, leaving Castiel clawing at him to get on with it. Castiel didn't consider himself to be a bitch, overpowering him was no easy task. However, if Dean Winchester wanted power he was going to take it like it was his right. It hadn't taken long for Castiel to learn to let it happen, Dean always rewarded him in the end. And with the way they traded control in their courtship, dominance wasn't an easy thing to measure.

The pad of Dean's finger rubbed in an easy circle, massaging until the muscle began to relax under his touch. Castiel continued kissing and biting his neck and shoulders, leaving more hickeys to make up for lost time. Soon enough the tip of Dean's finger was slipping inside, coaxing him to loosen further. Castiel mewled happily and smiled against the hinge of Dean's jaw. He could feel every bit of the almost lazy movements of that finger as it worked inside him. One finger was turned into two almost too soon, Dean rubbing along his side to offer comfort in the face of the burn he knew was there. The moment Dean found his prostate Castiel forgot the hint of pain where two fingers moved in and out of him. True to form Dean focused a maddening amount of attention on it, pushing kisses into Castiel's brow for every unrestrained moan.

Castiel began to fuck himself back on Dean's fingers, eyes slipping closed as he panted and groaned into the man's shoulder. Once Dean had three fingers in his own impatience surfaced. He pushed Castiel upright, his fingers slipping free while he grabbed the discarded bottle of lube. The cap popped open easily and Dean slicked himself up, barely having time to coat himself properly before Cas grabbed him to line him up. He chuckled lowly as Castiel took charge and the head of his cock slipped into his slicked hole. Dean wiped his fingers on the bedspread, pulling a face before turning his attention back to the man on top of him, his hands resting against the pale thighs at his sides.

A steady stream of _oh, Dean_'s dripped from Castiel's mouth in form of breathy moans. His hands covered his lover's, nails biting half-moons into the calloused flesh. Half way down he stopped and bit his lower lip, savoring the burning stretch as he adjusted.

Dean squeezed his thighs encouragingly and hummed low in his chest. "Missed this, haven't you, baby?" His voice was deeper, pleasure smoothing out the rough bite that a life of shouting matches and alcohol had provided.

Castiel nodded and sank down the rest of the way, sitting flush against Dean's pelvis. His head tipped back, his eyes closing as he recalled the last time they had the privacy to meet. _Got a mark lined up tonight, wanna help out?_ It was that night that Castiel had told Dean his family threatened to have them both put on a hit list if he didn't break it off. _I'm gonna kill Zachariah, Cas, you just wait._

After a moment Castiel rotated his hips, grinding into Dean in a slow circle. He enjoyed the sensations, the fullness of having Dean inside him and intense spark when he rolled in just the right way to rub his prostate. Once any lingering pain had subsided, Castiel leaned forward, bracing himself on Dean's shoulders as he started a quick rhythm. His head hung loosely, eyes fluttering as he worked himself on his lover's cock. Dean's hands were roaming all over, squeezing hard enough to bruise across his ribs, up his arms, anywhere they could reach.

One hand trailed its way to his throat, resting gently across his windpipe before falling lower to grab his collar bone painfully. He whimpered, his rhythm faltering slightly under Dean's harsh touch. Maybe he should have found a bit of irony in the fact that the man he trusted most with his life and his body was one of the most skilled killers he'd ever met. The only one he'd ever readily admit _could_ kill him. But it was Dean, he knew Dean, knew what he was capable of. Any pain Dean caused to him was simply a test to see how far he could be pushed and he savored every stinging second.

Dean pinched the juncture of his neck and shoulder between his thumb and forefinger. Castiel knew it would be yet another bruise and the pressure forced a whimper out of his throat as Dean held him there. "You're mine, Cas." The words made his cock throb, he loved Dean marking him.

Dean pinched harder when Castiel didn't respond right away, bucking up into him roughly. "Yes, yes, yours, Dean." A pleased moan met Castiel's ears and he smiled softly in kind. His skin was released and rubbed softly to soothe the ache. Every second got Castiel that much closer, heat building low in his stomach. His pace sped up, hips angling and rolling fluidly to bring them both as much pleasure as possible. Castiel heard the lube click open, only dully registering what it meant before Dean had one hand wrapped around him. The other man's legs shifted, heels digging into the mattress to offer more leverage as he pushed up into every downward thrust from Castiel. Dean palmed the head of his cock, the sensation of rough skin slicked with lube finally dragging his orgasm out of him. A drawn out moan filled the air as he spilled into Dean's hand. The tension of being away for two years, of his disobedience and of being on the run for the better part of two days drained from him and the muscles in his legs fell lax in response.

Dean grabbed him by the hips, soiled hand smearing his own come onto his skin, and used what leverage he had to thrust up roughly. Castiel rolled his hips as much as he could, over-sensitized as he was for the four thrusts it took until Dean's orgasm hit. His eyes were tightly shut, lip pulled back from his teeth menacingly as a shout ripped its way out of his throat. He squeezed more bruises into Castiel's skin, muscles fidgeting and twitching as he came down.

Castiel took time to watch him come undone before falling forward, panting roughly against sweat-slick skin. When he gained enough energy he rolled off and to the side, Dean slipping out of him wetly. Their legs were tangled together and his head rested against Dean's shoulder heavily. Warm fingers rubbed nonsense patterns into his back, skin tingling softly in their wake. Sweat cooled on their skin as they lay there quietly. In the calm, Castiel slipped one hand up Dean's chest, pushing it into his throat just enough to be uncomfortable. "If I'm yours, then you're mine as well, Dean."

He could hear the sated pleasure in his own voice, gravel undertone ebbed away by fatigue and a really good fuck. When Dean responded he could almost hear the smile on his face, even without looking to see it. "That's why I'm never letting you get away from me again."

Castiel relaxed his grip but allowed his hand to stay. If he was honest with himself, he couldn't imagine his life leading to anything different.


End file.
